


Lassi and the Half-Blood Psychic

by NephilimEQ



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Psych
Genre: Crossover, Dumbledore is busy, F/M, M/M, McGonogall is headmistress, altered timeline, house rivalry but not really, psych/harry potter crossover, takes place before Harry goes to school
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-09 21:10:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7817332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NephilimEQ/pseuds/NephilimEQ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlton Lassiter is going to Hogwarts to become an Auror. He meets half-blood Shawn Spencer along the way. Rivalries ensue...but will they become something different along the way? And what's up with Spencer talking about dark forces in Albania?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

**Chapter 1**

Juliet O’Hara smiled as her friend, Carlton Lassiter approached, his green and silver striped tie partially undone, with his hair windswept and face lightly flushed. His left pant leg was ruffled, as well.  He’d obviously just gotten back from an illicit fly on his new broom, which was a Sky Breaker. It was top of the line. He’d saved up for it for the past year and he was the only one at Hogwarts with the newest broom on the market; it had only come out a month ago, but he had a family friend in the business.

“Hey, Carlton,” she said, giving him a sly look as she glanced him over. “How was the flight?”

He gave her a panicked look, running his hand through his hair, as well as absently straightening his tie with the other, sitting next to her.

“Is it that obvious?”

Juliet laughed and reached over to help him, saying, “Just a little bit, Carlton. Here, let me help you…”

He begrudgingly let her fix his tie, and then dragged out his books from his weather-beaten messenger bag, threw them on the table in front of them, and then said, “The Transfiguration homework is kicking my ass. You gonna help me or not, O’Hara?” As he said this, he shrugged off his black robe and rolled up the pristine white sleeves of his white shirt, showing off his surprisingly muscled forearms, which came from hours on the Quidditch pitch. As a Chaser for the Slytherin team, he got plenty of practice.

Juliet smiled and nodded.

“Of course, Carlton. But only if you help me with my Defense homework. My shield charm is next to nothing right now, and needs some serious work.”

He nodded and they went to work, both of them ignoring the looks from the other students in the library. O’Hara was a Gryffindor, after all, and willingly hanging out with a Slytherin was looked down on. The fact that she was Keeper for the Gryffindor team made it even worse…but they didn’t care.

They had met when some sixth year Gryffindor had attempted to hex Lassiter while his back was turned and O’Hara had jumped in and saved him from extreme embarrassment, as well as possible harm. Lassiter had been skeptical at first, not entirely sure that her intentions were entirely altruistic, but as soon as he’d realized that she wasn’t holding it over him or trying to use it against him in any way, that her intentions _were_ good, they’d developed a fast friendship.

They even gave each other pointers on their flying techniques, to their team captains’ chagrins. Both of them felt that the House rivalries were outdated and somewhat elitist in an almost Colonial sense, which was why they hung out and studied together in obvious public venues on campus, the Library being a favorite choice for both of them.

After forty-five minutes of alternating studying and critiquing each other’s techniques, they stood up and headed for the Great Hall, bags packed, with Lassiter looking much more presentable than before, their steps almost in perfect unison despite Carlton’s long, lanky legs.

As they walked in, a familiar voice called out.

“Lassi! Jules! Over here!”

Lassiter inwardly groaned and outwardly rolled his eyes, but at seeing Juliet’s look he reluctantly followed her over to where the Ravenclaw Seeker, Shawn Spencer, sat, along with Burton Guster from Hufflepuff. They were more Juliet’s friends than his, but he tolerated them for her benefit.

“Hey, Shawn,” she said, flashing him a tentative smile. She had a thing for him, but he seemed to be oblivious.

The arrogant seventh-year ignored Juliet and turned to Lassiter and said, “Hey, Lassi. Good luck this weekend.”

Dear Merlin, like he needed another reminder about this weekend. Lassiter deliberately ignored him, mentally shoving the reminder to the back of his mind, not wanting to think about it, and instead thought of how Spencer had said “Lassi.”  Shawn had given him that stupid nickname. When he’d first started using it, Carlton hadn’t minded all that much, but then he found out that it was a reference to a Muggle program about a collie that saved a little boy’s life over and over again, and he now hated it.

“Hi, Juliet,” said Guster pointedly, trying to catch the girl’s eye. Carlton had to refrain from rolling his eyes a second time. It was honestly ridiculous. Guster had a thing for O’Hara, but O’Hara had a thing for Spencer, and Spencer seemed unnaturally and unhealthily focused on Lassiter for reasons that were beyond him.

“Hey, Gus,” O’Hara replied, being perfectly cordial. “Actually, I’m glad I caught you now. Do you think you could help me with my Astronomy paper? It’s not my strongest subject and Shawn happened to mention that you were kind of obsessed and that you might…you know…help me?”

Gus looked shocked for a moment, but quickly recovered and said, “Sure, Juliet. I’d love to help.”

Breaking the awkward moment, Spencer suddenly lunged across the table and grabbed a slice of pineapple from his friend’s plate, and, ignoring Gus’s cry of protest, he took a large bite out of it…and then, just as suddenly, spit it back out, spraying pineapple pieces across the table and his papers.

“Dude, what the hell is that? And why does it taste like tofu?”

Gus smirked back at him.

“Because it’s my Transfiguration homework, _Shawn._ It _was_ tofu. Now, it’s a slice of pineapple.”

“Sure as hell doesn’t taste like it,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he used his other one to roll it across the table, a huge chunk missing from it in the shape of the Ravenclaw’s teeth marks. How the guy was in Ravenclaw, Carlton had no idea. The attention hungry seventeen-year-old acted more like a brash Gryffindor, yet he inexplicably had perfect scores in every class that he’d ever taken. Carlton had never seen Shawn pick up a book, let alone study. He had no idea how he did it, and that bothered him to no end.

“So…you gonna beat me this Saturday, Lassi?”

Again, he ignored the question, focusing instead on his food. Ravenclaw and Slytherin were playing each other that weekend, and Carlton was nervous enough as it was, without Spencer pestering him about it. Shawn had just become Seeker for the Ravenclaw team, but he was scary good. Luckily, ever since Lassiter had gotten onto the Slytherin team, their team hadn’t lost. But he’d never played against Spencer.

“Lassiiii….”

Carlton’s eyes snapped up.

“I’m gonna kick your ass this weekend, Spencer. So, shut it.”

Looking slightly taken aback, the brunette simply nodded and leaned back, picking at the sandwich in front of him. Their rivalry was less than friendly, no matter how often Spencer tried to change it. Lassiter had sounded a lot more confident than he felt, however. Shawn wasn’t just good…he was _exceedingly_ good. Like with everything else he did, he flew perfectly, flawlessly, and no one knew why. He’d grown up in a Muggle home with his father, who worked in law enforcement in the states.

That was the only other reason why Carlton tolerated Spencer and Gus; they were the only other American students besides himself and O’Hara. But, unlike Gus and Spencer, both Carlton and Juliet came from well-known pureblood families. And, well, there was Karen Vick, but he didn’t really count her because her entire family was ex-patriated. They had all had the option of attending Ilvermorny, but Carlton’s goal was to become an Auror, and a degree from Hogwarts held more weight than one from Ilvermorny. Juliet was there because it was where her mother had gone, and Lassiter was vaguely aware that Guster was there because he was on scholarship. The only reason why Spencer was there was probably to get away from his father, Carlton mused.

As soon as lunch was over, he headed straight for the Quidditch pitch. He had another free period, after all. Seemed a shame to waste the time. He dropped his bag and clothes in the Slytherin locker room and changed into his casual practice gear, not bothering with the usual protective leather pads. He then unlocked the magical seal on his Sky Breaker and headed out to the field. After a quick glance to make sure that he was alone, he took off with a firm kick, and in mere seconds was over a thousand feet above the pitch. Merlin, it was perfect up there.

Not a single distraction to be found.

Feeling restless, and a little bit reckless, he dropped into a steep dive, only pulling up at the absolute last possible second, the wind roaring violently past him as he banked into a sharp right turn and circled back around the outside of the poles at the end of the field. His Sky Breaker responded beautifully, turning at the merest touch, and Carlton felt each tension in his body disappear with each lap that he took around the field. Shawn had a Firebolt, an older model, but he still managed to make Lassiter seem like an uncoordinated troll compared to him.

In his first game, Spencer had caught the Snitch only one minute into the game, while hanging from his broom upside down. _Everyone_ had been impressed. Despite all the adulation placed upon the Ravenclaw sixth year, Carlton was pleased that he’d still managed to make a name for himself. Because of his height, he had a long reach, which made him one hell of an asset as a Chaser, and whenever he threw the quaffle, he always scored. That had earned him the respect of nearly everyone in Quidditch at Hogwarts…except for Shawn Spencer.

Dammit. He was no longer relaxed. Just the thought of his name ruined all of the work an hour of flying had done. Giving up, he headed back, turning lazily towards the field.

“Lassi!”

Merlin, not now.  He couldn’t handle him at that moment. Turning his broom, he saw Spencer approaching from the ground, his Firebolt in hand. He then launched and met Carlton twenty feet off the ground.

“Hey, Lassi,” he said, flashing his pearly whites. “I know you practice with Jules, so I thought that we could try it out. Not a problem, right?”

Lassiter glared at him.

“We’re up against each other on Saturday, Spencer! Are you an idiot? I’m not gonna train with you!” And with that, he dropped to the ground and took off at a brisk pace back to the Slytherin locker room, knowing that Spencer wouldn’t dare step foot in it…but no such luck. Spencer followed him anyway, completely oblivious to the way the snake sigils just inside the door lit up when he walked past them.

“That’s not fair, Lassi! Don’t be lumpy tapioca pudding!”

Carlton wheeled on him when he saw the sigils light up, their faces inches apart.

“You idiot!” he yelled a second time. “You just walked into the Slytherin locker room. You don’t have Slytherin stitching in your uniform, which means that Vick knows that someone from another team is in our locker room, so she’ll think I’m giving you our strategy!”

He glared at him, chest heaving, and Spencer raised his hands in innocence.

“Honest, Lassi, I didn’t know! Don’t worry, I’ll tell them it was my bad, because, hey, it was…”

Lassiter rolled his eyes.

“You don’t get it, Spencer. Because of this they’ll probably disqualify both of us from playing this weekend. Gee, thanks a lot.” He turned back around and then, noticing that the Ravenclaw still hadn’t moved, he growled out, “Leave, Spencer!”

He scampered.

Carlton sighed. Vick was going to be pissed. Karen Vick was the Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team; she played Keeper and she ran a tight ship. She was generous enough to let Carlton practice on his own, however, the rest of the team worked together.  Their seeker was a fifth year, named Eliza King, but everyone knew that Lassiter was the one who made sure that King caught the Snitch. The only reason why Lassiter wasn’t a Seeker was because of his damn height…and the fact that he and King had tried out at the same time, and she’d gotten it first.

Not bothering with a shower, Carlton threw his robes back on and dragged himself to Advanced Arithmancy. He still had thirty minutes, but he had no desire to run into Spencer again, so he went up to the sixth floor and sat outside the door, pulling out his wand and practicing the movement that O’Hara had had been tutoring him for Transfiguration.

“Carlton.”

Crap. It was Vick. He slowly lifted his eyes and stared up at her from his spot on the floor. She knew that he knew what she was going to ask, so he went ahead and answered without her ever saying a word.

“Shawn Spencer followed me in, Vick. Damn idiot thought he’d get some flying tips from me. He didn’t know about the warning sigils and immediately left after I told him to scram,” he said in a rush, trying to get it out as quickly as possible.

She shook her head, her short blonde hair barely moving, looking irritated, her brown eyes flashing.

“Figures,” she mattered, letting out a huff of air. “He’s the only Ravenclaw that would be that stupid to do such a thing.” She let out a sigh and then said, unexpectedly, “By the way, King is sick. I’m looking for a replacement.”

Carlton stood up, brushing himself off as the busty Victoria Vadis walked by, and then looked back at Karen and said, “Do you want me to talk to Kessler, then?” Damien Kessler was the only other one who had tried out for position of Seeker that year; but Vick shook her head.

“No. I’m bringing in Dobbs.”

Dirk Dobbs? But he was six foot one and at least forty pounds heavier than Lassiter. Why would she…

“What do you say, Carlton? Ready to prove yourself?”

Holy shit. She wanted him to…he mentally shook himself. This was finally happening. This was his shot. This was his chance to prove to everyone at Hogwarts that he was a better Seeker than Shawn Spencer. Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, he nodded. She smiled a tight-lipped smile.

“Good. See you at practice tomorrow night. Remember, you’re a Seeker now. Think like one,” she added pointedly as she walked away.

Carlton nodded, feeling rejuvenated and renewed as he waited for the classroom door to open. He was going to be Seeker. It was a dream come true…but as he walked into the room, the reality of it hit him square in the gut. He was going up against Spencer. Just Spencer. Essentially, all of the game of Quidditch came down to one player. The Seeker. One on one. No team in the way.

He dropped heavily into his seat as his stomach began to roll. Shit. This wasn’t good. This was a nightmare. Merlin, what if he made a fool of himself? Just as the thought hit him, Guster sat down next to him and said, “Shawn told me to tell you that he’s really sorry and that it won’t happen again. Also, that he’ll talk to Karen and try to explain the situation.”

Still in a haze, Lassiter shook his head.

“No, it’s okay. Vick’s cool with it.”

“Oh,” said Guster, sounding slightly surprised. He knew her reputation. “Okay, then. Cool.”

Then, not thinking about who he was talking to, Lassiter blurted out, “King is sick. Vick’s made me Seeker.”

Guster’s eyes practically bugged out of his head, and he turned in his seat and said, “You mean…you and Shawn are…? Oh…oh, that’s _not_ good. Shawn just might lose to make you feel better about yourself. You know how he is, Lassiter. Nothing but a people pleaser…”

That snapped Lassiter out of his haze.

“If he does that, I’ll murder him.”

Gus seemed unsurprised at Carlton’s exclamation and simply replied, “You know that’s right,” and then opened his book, while the Slytherin sat there silently fuming. He had to cut Spencer off at the pass. If he was going up against him, it would be fair and square. He would not win because Shawn was _letting_ him win; he would win because he was _better_ than him.

He inwardly steeled himself for the inevitable jabs that would be sent his way, not only by Spencer, but by everyone else. He knew that most of his year, including _all_ of Slytherin, thought that he took school much too seriously. He had been ridiculed for it in the past and had, fortunately, never let it get to him, but this was Quidditch. If he screwed _this_ up…it would haunt him for the rest of his life. No one cared about tests, but when it came to Quidditch, they all acted as though it was an entire way of life.

He would beat him.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

** **

 

**Chapter 2**

The next three days passed by slowly, excruciatingly, taunting Carlton with what was to come. By now, all of Hogwarts knew that he was going to be playing Seeker on Saturday. Not only was it nerve wracking, it was paralyzing the more and more he thought about it, so he deliberately distracted himself, throwing all of his nervous energy into his schoolwork.

Because he was so focused, his spellwork had improved greatly in just a few days. Even O’Hara had noticed and commented on it.

“Dammit!” she said loudly as a wordless binding spell hit her and knocked her to the ground. He flicked his wand and the spell came undone and she grinned at him as she stood up, brushing off her robes. “Damn, Carlton. I didn’t even see that one coming. Two days ago you were struggling with that one verbally, and now you just…well, you know!” She then smirked at him and said, “You really want to beat Shawn on Saturday, don’t you?”

He turned away from her, annoyed at how easily she saw through him. He looked at the bookshelf and skimmed through the titles. They were in the Room of Requirement, their usual place for combat practice, but instead of feeling comforted by the anonymity, he felt a surge of anger. Maybe if Spencer could see what he was doing, he would actually be _worried_ for Saturday, unlike the way he was now, strutting around the halls as imperiously as ever. It didn’t help that half the girls at the school were in love with him, feeding into his vanity.

As it was, Lassiter was even more nervous than before. At practices, he’d only managed to catch the Snitch three out of ten times. Not exactly the best figure to be looking at before a game.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, tucking his wand up his sleeve.

Juliet let out a groan and quickly retorted, “Oh, c’mon, Carlton…this is ridiculous! You and I _both_ know that you can beat Shawn, even if you had one arm tied behind your back.” She approached him from behind and rested a hand on his shoulder, prompting him to turn. Brown eyes met blue. “Carlton…you have _nothing_ to worry about. I mean, he may be mister popularity and be a pretty damn good flier, but you and I both know that you’re not just good. You’re _better_ than good. You have a true gift. You can do this. You can beat him.”

Slightly surprised at her and her support, considering her crush on the Ravenclaw, he gaped for a second, and then nodded.

“Al…alright. If you say so.”

O’Hara laughed and tossed her hair over her shoulder as she bent down to pick up her bag from the floor. As she stood up, she threw him a broad smile and said, “Carlton, for once in your life, trust your instincts. I mean, I know you had a rough time this week with Quidditch practice, but you know that you’re better than that. You’ll do great.”

He reluctantly sent her a smile and replied, “I guess we’ll see.”

Rolling her eyes, she walked to the door, knowing he was following, and they headed for dinner.

* * *

It was the morning of the game. Carlton woke up at six and was down at breakfast at six thirty, the only one in the Great Hall. He took the solitude and enjoyed it, stacking his plate full of bacon, sausage, and eggs, stocking up on his protein. He drank a large glass of orange juice…and then barely touched the food. He knew that playing on an empty stomach wasn’t wise, but he found his appetite diminishing with every person that walked into the Hall for their own breakfasts, furtive glances being cast in his direction every so often and rattling his nerves.

Shit. He was going to blow it.

Tightening his jaw, he forced himself to eat, dutifully ignoring all of the looks. He then stood and walked to the Slytherin locker room, determination in his stride. The instant he stepped inside, Dirk Dobbs approached him and put a meaty hand on Carlton’s shoulder.

“Good luck, Lassiter.”

Carlton nodded at the sixth year who was taking his place as Chaser.

“You, too, Dobbs.”

The older student smirked and replied, “I’m not the one who needs it,” and then walked away from him to change, leaving Lassiter feeling more nervous than before. Quickly, not giving himself time to think about it, he changed into his uniform and then headed to the door to wait to emerge with the rest of the team.

Within minutes, they were all joined together on the narrow ramp that lead up over the field, and Vick turned to all of them and gave them a brief flash of a smile before saying, “As Slytherins, we learn to rely on ourselves. As a team, we learn to rely on each other.” In unison, they said, “ _We bring individual strength to the whole, so that we do not fall if divided._ ” She then said, “We protect and defend our team, but we do not risk others in doing so.” Again, in unison, they replied, _“Think of the whole, but remember the self.”_

Her grin turned mischievous.

“Now…let’s go kick some Ravenclaw ass.”

All of them grinning, almost maniacally, they sprinted up the ramp as they heard their team being called and flew out. Not one by one, like every other team, but as a group. They were the only ones who did, and they all loved the fact that it always bothered the other teams that they seemed more united than them, as Slytherins were notorious for their selfishness. It gave them an edge each and every time.

Lassiter swept upward and took his position above the pitch, feeling comfortable for the first time in days…and then Spencer appeared, looking as confident as ever.

“Hey, Lassi,” he threw out to him, being friendly.

Carlton glared.

“You’re going down, Spencer.”

Spencer threw him a devil-may-care grin and settled further back on his broom, slouching, and nonchalantly replied, “Maybe I will. I don’t know.” He abruptly leaned forward, however, as they heard the first whistle, the warning whistle that they were about to start, and at the sound his personality shifted in an instant, his eyes darkening and his voice going low as he said, “…but then again…”

The second whistle blew.

The game had started.

In a flash, Spencer had pulled away and Lassiter followed easily, holding back his speed, tracking him, never letting him out of his sight. As they banked dangerously around the towers, frightening more than a few onlookers, Carlton had the vague inclination that he was being mocked by the Ravenclaw Seeker, who threw glances over his shoulder every so often, as though making sure that Lassiter was still following him. He thought about pulling away, but didn’t, determined to stick it out.

He glanced at the score as they flew past it, and noted that Ravenclaw was down by only five points. He was going to have to go on the offensive and look for the Snitch himself and stop tailing Spencer.

Reluctantly, he pulled up and headed high to get a bird’s eye view of the Quidditch pitch. Everyone looked like dots in the distance and, for a moment, he worried that he was too far away to catch any glimpses of the elusive golden orb…but then he saw a flash, down near Kitt’s shoulder, the Ravenclaw Keeper.

Like a lightning bolt, he shot down, his hand reached out…and he just _barely_ missed it, his fingers grasping air just as the Snitch shot out of his reach. He went after it, gaining speed effortlessly, and nearly caught up to it twenty yards outside the field, when, unexpectedly, Spencer shot up out of nowhere, a flash of blue and black as he nearly caught it, the round ball rolling off the edge of his fingertips. Angry at being denied, Lassiter shot forward and looped around the other Seeker, glaring at him.

“If you’re holding back Spencer, I will _kill_ you. I feel like I’m being toyed with, here…”

Spencer shot up on his broom, running a hand through his hair which still managed to look perfect despite all of his reckless flying, and then shot Lassiter a look, one eyebrow arched.

“Hold back? Moi? I’m offended, Lassi, that you would think me capable of such salacious subterfuge and deliberate deviance,” he said, moving closer to him, his hand now perched imperiously on his hip. “I mean, what kind of person do you think I am?”

Lassiter gave him a dark grin.

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

Shawn smiled.

“No, probably not.” He slowly pulled away and then said, “So…no holding back, huh? You want me to hit you with all I’ve got? I mean…think this through, Lassi. If I _do_ , there’s a ninety-two point six percent chance that Ravenclaw wins this match, making you look like a _total_ ass…”

At seeing the smirk on Spencer’s face, the Slytherin snarled.

“That means I’ve got a seven point four percent chance of making _you_ look like the ass…that’s more than enough of a percentage for me, Spencer.”

Spencer’s smirk darkened.

“Then it’s on, Lassi.”

He then shot past him so quickly, Lassiter was shocked, and it took him a moment to catch up. The Ravenclaw might have been on a lesser broom, but he used it to his advantage in saving energy, only wasting his true speed when he thought Lassiter was getting too close. They were locked in a fierce battle, Lassiter using all of his skills to keep Spencer from getting his all-too-quick hands on the Snitch.

He glanced down at the scoreboard…and he paled.

Slytherin was down by eighty points. Dammit. He _had_ to win this for them. Quickly, he pulled back from tailing Spencer and shot like an arrow towards the sky once more, taking a high and long look around the pitch, trying to see what the other Seeker was doing, certain that some other plan was in play to keep him from seeing something that Spencer had already seen…and then he saw it. The Snitch.

Down on the field, hovering inches from the ground, it was darting back and forth along a line of grass, practically imperceptible to anyone in the stands, let alone someone as high up as Lassiter, and that was when it hit him. Spencer’s Firebolt was good, _but it couldn’t stop that quickly from full acceleration so close to the ground_. But a Sky Breaker _could_ , and _that_ was why Spencer had been playing with him, keeping him distracted enough to work his way down in an un-obvious fashion, to keep Lassiter from seeing what he was doing.

Too late. Lassiter saw it…and he was taking it.

Dropping like a hawk in a dive, he plunged towards the Quidditch field and he heard a collective gasp coming from the stands. He knew from the outside it probably looked like a suicide move, as his Sky Breaker was breaking two hundred miles per hour, easily, and he was aimed straight for the ground. No one in the stands could see the Snitch, making it look like the craziest stunt ever pulled in a Quidditch match.

Just as he was certain he might not be able to pull up, he did, the wind roaring in his ears as he rolled around his broom, hanging from the underside with one hand outstretched. He saw a blur of blue near his head, but ignored it and grabbed at the gold metal…and inwardly crowed as he felt his fingers grasp firmly around it, the wings crushed by his fierce grip.

He effortlessly rolled back, pulled himself back up and then slowed to an almost stop, just long enough to wave the Snitch in the commentator’s direction.

 _“I DON’T BELIEVE IT! LASSITER HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH RIGHT OUT FROM UNDER SPENCER’S NOSE!! SLYTHERIN WINS!!”_ yelled Bedworth, the third year Hufflepuff announcer.

Lassiter grinned, and then looked over at Spencer who was hovering only a few feet away, and was pleased to see a look of total shock on the Ravenclaw’s face…but then Spencer smiled at him and said enigmatically, “I knew you were good, Lassi. But I really had _no_ idea. I mean…damn. That was some _seriously_ awesome flying…”

Confused at the praise, he looked away and instead flew down to the pitch, where the Slytherin team had gathered to congratulate him, Vick’s short nod of approval louder than any of the screams that were coming from the stands. He had done it. He had beaten Shawn Spencer at his own game.

However, as he saw Shawn head back to his own locker room he saw a few of the Ravenclaw teammates giving their own Seeker dirty looks, only one or two of them clapping a sympathizing hand on the sixth year’s shoulder, and he felt a stir of guilt.

He didn’t have the chance to think more on it, though, as he was ushered through to his own locker room, all of his teammates going on about his brilliant moves against the unbeatable Ravenclaw Seeker. He heard the words, and instead of relishing in them and enjoying every second of the well-deserved praise, he found he didn’t feel as strongly about it as he had before the game. Ignoring the feeling, he excused himself to the shower and deliberately took a long time, waiting for everyone to leave.

As soon as he was alone, he changed into his Muggle clothes, jeans and an oversized black sweater, and headed towards the Great Hall for lunch.

O’Hara intercepted him in the hallway, her blonde pony-tail streaming behind her and her gray sneakers squeaking on the stone floor as she nearly bowled him over with a hug and then hooked her arm through his.

“I _told_ you you’d do great, Carlton!” she enthused as they headed down the corridor. “I mean, I knew you were _good_ , but hell! That catch? It was…it was more intense than the Quidditch World Cup! I mean, when I saw you drop, I was _certain_ that there was no _way_ that you would be able to pull up in time! You were just this blur, and when you swiped it from right under Shawn’s nose…it was amazing, Carlton.”

He couldn’t help a small smile appear at her enthusiasm and he said, “It was really that good?”

She rolled her eyes at him.

“Yes, _Carlton_ , it was really that good. You know,” she added almost as an afterthought. “I always thought you were good, but when you actually have, you know, _real_ competition, it brings out this side of you…”

Lassiter looked at her, slightly worried, and then tentatively asked, “What do you mean?”

O’Hara shrugged.

“I don’t know. It’s like…like, remember how much you hated Gus when we first started here? And then one day there was that schoolwide Gobstones tournament, and he ended up wiping the floor with every single player, and you said to me that you saw something in him that you hadn’t seen before. That he had an ambition to be the best. And even though you didn’t care for him or the game, you respected him anyway because of _how_ he played, that it brought out his best qualities.”

Carlton nodded.

“Well…it’s kind of like that. I mean, I know you work hard for your grades and you resent Shawn for the fact that it seems like he puts in practically _no_ effort and gets better grades than you…but when he puts a challenge in front of you, like Quidditch, he brings out the _best_ side of your competitive nature…you know what I mean?”

Carlton shook his head, slightly confused, and she let out a frustrated sigh. Pulling her arm from his, she moved in front of him and walked backward so that she could face him as she talked.

“Like…your schoolwork brings out this _bitter_ type of competitive energy with you, and it’s a bit upsetting sometimes. But with Quidditch, Shawn seems to, well, be the challenge that you _need_. I mean, I’ve never actually seen you _smile_ like that before! Never! And, well, Shawn seemed to be smiling with you, like he knew that you were going to beat him, and he was proud of you for it. Like…he was purposely pushing you towards your potential.”

She shook her head and turned around just in time to walk through the doors to the Great Hall.

“Crazy, right?” she tossed over her shoulder, heading to their table.

Carlton just nodded, deliberately ignoring the flash of Spencer’s smile in his mind’s eye.

Yeah, crazy. Of course.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

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**Chapter 3**

It had been a week since the game, and Lassiter was still reeling from all the praise. He was a Slytherin, which was the strangest part of the whole thing. If he had been in any of the other three Houses, it might have been expected that the whole school would support him, but being clapped on the shoulder in the corridor by seventh year Hufflepuffs and praised and whispered about by second year Gryffindors, had him more confused than ever.

He had tried getting an answer from O’Hara, but she had shaken her head and said, “Don’t you get it, Carlton? They don’t _care_ that you’re a Slytherin because everyone knows pure talent when they see it. And you’re even being _modest_ about it, too, which is sort of unheard of for, you know, your House.”

Carlton had simply nodded and dropped the conversation, still just as bewildered as before.

He was walking down the hall to Transfiguration, when Headmistress McGonagall stopped him by calling out his name.

“Mister Lassiter? If you could come with me for a moment, it would be much appreciated. I’ll write a note for you for Professor Hawthorne.”

He nodded and followed, slightly worried at being singled out by the Headmistress. Had he done something wrong? The entire walk to her office consisted of Lassiter going over every possibility of what he might have done to elicit direct attention from the Headmistress.

However, as soon as they walked into her spacious sanctum, he was surprised to see his mother and a strange man standing in the room.

“Mom? What are you doing here?” he asked as he approached her, giving her a warm hug. “Nothing’s happened to Carmen, has it?” Carmen was his mother’s life partner, and the only thing that came to mind about why she might be there, but she shook her head, and he responded with, “Then why are you here?”

The man to the side stepped forward at that point and introduced himself.

“That would be _my_ doing, Mister Lassiter.” He firmly shook Carlton’s hand. “I am Gibbs Bloomquist, and I am the head hunter for Quidditch International League, also known as QUILL.” Bloomquist looked over at McGonagall and then back at Lassiter and said, “I approached your mother about a proposition for your future. I saw your game last Saturday and I recorded it and showed it to some of the top Captains in the League…and it seems that they all want you.”

Carlton stood there, gaping, not quite sure of what he was hearing.

“Wait…are you sure they were talking about me? I mean, it was only one game…”

Bloomquist cut him off.

“Not just for one game, Mister Lassiter. I’ve been keeping an eye on you for a while, now. It has been to clear to me that _you_ are the main reason why your team has been successful. You are not only an adept and skilled Chaser, but on more than one occasion, you’ve stepped in even for the Beaters on your team. You have fast reflexes, which would also make you an excellent Keeper…and now, seeing just how _outstanding_ you were as a Seeker, _all_ the teams want you as an on-call back up.”

Even Lassiter, as dull as he was about so many things, knew what that meant. They would pay _him_ to play for them, and he wouldn’t have to be tied down to one single team. He would be paid more than generously, and could even pursue another career if he wanted to. It was the best offer that he could ever receive.

Startled, and taken aback by the opportunity, he said, “May I…think it over?”

Bloomquist nodded.

“Of course, I would expect nothing less from someone of your caliber. Please consider our offer, Mr. Lassiter. We would love to have you.”

With that, he nodded to McGonagall and threw a pinch of Floo Powder into her fireplace and was gone in the words, “Ministry of Magic,” leaving behind two astounded witches and one befuddled wizard. Carlton stared at the fireplace a moment longer, and then turned to his mother.

“Do you think I should take it?”

She shrugged and put a hand to his hair, lovingly running her fingers through it.

“In the end, sweetie, it’s about what _you_ want. Not what I want.”

Carlton thought about it for a moment, and then pivoted on his heel and face the Headmistress and said, “I’ll need to think it through over the next few days, if that’s alright.” She nodded, and motioned towards the door and said, “To echo Mr. Bloomquist’s sentiments, please…take your time.”

He nodded and gave his mother a kiss on the cheek, along with the promise that he would owl her more often, and then left, his mind weighing heavy.

Sufficiently distracted, he lost track of the time, and completely missed not only Transfiguration, but Potions, as well, but brushed it off. He had a pass for Hawthorne, and he knew that Slughorn would let it pass; the man was still trying to get him to join his stupid “Slug Club”, which he had no earthly desire to do.

However, after a while, he cast a brief _Tempus_ and saw that he was going to be late for dinner. Rushing slightly, as he wanted to talk to O’Hara about Bloomquist’s offer, he practically ran through the corridor, silently praying that Filch didn’t catch him. He was only twenty feet from the doors when he ran into Spencer, both of their bags going flying.

Fuming, Carlton glared at him, and then, with a deft twist of his wand, all of his books put themselves back into his satchel, whereas Spencer was still on the floor clambering around, grabbing books and shoving them into his bag, not once thinking to reach for his wand. Carlton rolled his eyes and was about to yell at the Ravenclaw…but at a closer glance he saw what Spencer was doing, and he paled. The Ravenclaw’s hands were never actually touching the books, but merely making the gesture of reaching for them and then, wandlessly, they were sliding obediently into his bag.

He was doing wandless magic…which was _banned_ at Hogwarts.

Slightly impressed, but also terrified at what might happen if the young man got caught, he reached down and grabbed Spencer’s Astronomy book, thrusting it in the sixth year’s direction.

“Don’t do that out here,” Lassiter muttered from the corner of his mouth, leaning in close so that Spencer could hear him. “You’ll draw too much attention.”

Surprised that Lassi was talking to him, Shawn looked up and nodded, grabbing the book from the Slytherin’s hand and shoving it into his bag manually, along with the rest of his books. Before Lassiter could get away, Spencer wrapped strong fingers around Lassiter’s upper arm and said, “Wait up, Lassi…”

Carlton was tempted to pull away, but against his better judgment he instead simply rolled his eyes a second time and let Spencer fall into step next to him. They walked into the Great Hall together, a strange sight for many, he was certain, as he’d been actively going out of his way to avoid the Ravenclaw Seeker ever since the game the week before. He didn’t _hate_ him, in fact, he had more than a modest respect for him simply because of the fact that he was actually a decent guy when he wasn’t surrounded by his fans, but he still couldn’t tolerate his antics to almost any extent.

Spencer pestered him with questions as they walked in, and Carlton tightened his jaw.

“Why’d you make me stop, Lassifras? I mean, it’s only a little wandless magic, it’s not a huge deal…”

“You’re an idiot, Spencer,” he tersely replied as they sat down at a table together. “They don’t teach it here because it’s _banned_. It’s considered to be an extremely unstable and unpredictable way to use magic, as well as too volatile for even the most advanced wizards. You’re lucky a teacher didn’t catch you!”

The last part of this was hissed out as he glanced around to make sure that no one could hear their conversation.

“But…I’ve been doing it since I was seven. How can it be--”

Lassiter cut him off.

“Any magic not properly channeled by either a wand or another proper secondary or tertiary proxy is considered A-Level dangerous magic.”

Looking genuinely surprised at the information, Spencer hesitated a moment, putting some potatoes on his plate, and then said, “Huh. That explains a lot, actually.” He took a bite…and then continued to talk, with his mouth partially full, leaving Carlton feeling slightly nauseous. “Like, how I haven’t even seen the _professors_ using it. But…what if your wand breaks and you have to use it in an emergency, like, you know, if your life is on the line?”

Lassiter found himself rolling his eyes yet again.

“If you’re a decent wizard, that never happens,” he quipped. “Besides, what kind of wand do you have anyway?”

Shawn shoved his bag to the side and then proudly pulled out his wand, whipping it out of, of all places, his boot.

He waved it in Lassiter’s direction and said, “Thirteen and a quarter inches, raven feather, cedar. It’s a Morningway creation, from Salem.” He gave it an elaborate twirl and then put it on the table, throwing Lassiter a grin as he said, “I’ve shown you mine. Now, you show me yours. Quid pro quo, Clarice.”

Not understanding the reference, but noting the suggestive eyebrow sent in his direction, he reluctantly pulled out his own wand from its’ holder on the inside of his arm. Before he could say a word, however, Spencer not only spoke first, but grabbed his wand right from his hand.

“Ollivander’s, eleven and half inches,” he drawled out, twirling it. His fingers tightened slightly as he made a weird motion with his hand, and he added, “Dragon heartstring.” He then looked at it and smirked, as though amused by something. “Blackthorn wood.”

Lassiter snatched his wand back, glaring daggers at him.

“You don’t just grab someone’s wand.”

“That’s what _he_ said,” he snapped back, leering at him with a humorous glint in his eye.

Lassiter just stared at him. Spencer stared right back, one eyebrow arching imperiously as if daring him to reply. Carlton had the distinct impression that, if he did, he would be, in Muggle terms, horribly outgunned in a match of wits…so he said nothing and went back to his food. The Ravenclaw seemed slightly affronted at being so easily dismissed, and Lassiter fully expected him to go to his usual table, where several girls from different Houses sat waiting for him, all of them sending coquettish smiles and flirtatious looks in the Spencer's direction. So, he was surprised when Shawn stayed next to him, both of them eating their dinners in comfortable silence.

After a while, he noted that O’Hara hadn’t shown up, and he hesitantly asked, “Spencer, you wouldn’t happen to know where O’Hara is, do you?”

Spencer nodded, still chewing, and replied, “She’s up on the Astronomy tower, finishing up her homework with Gus. Man, he’s really got it bad for her. It’s a bit sad, don’t you think?”

Surprised that he’d noticed, Carlton nodded, and added, “Yeah, I’m getting kind of sick of it, actually. He should just ask her out already and get it over with. I am getting tired of watching him moon after her every day like some disgustingly dimwitted dwarf.”

“Nice alliteration there, Lassi.”

He smiled.

“Thanks.”

And with that, they lapsed into a comfortable silence, which took Carlton off guard. He was used to the thinly veiled animosity between the two of them, not this…camaraderie. It was an odd feeling, but not one that he felt had to be too soon discarded. He was enjoying it, actually. Which led him to his next decision.

He took another bite of food and then, swallowing, said, “Do you know about a guy named Gibbs Bloomquist?”

“He’s the main head hunter for QUILL,” Shawn answered, his mouth still full. “The best head hunter they’ve got, actually. I heard some rumours that he was at a few of the games this year,” he added, looking almost pleased at the possibility.

Lassiter nodded. He still couldn’t believe that he was considering this. Talking about being recruited by QUILL with Spencer? It was obvious by how he reacted that he was hoping to get some attention drawn towards his skill as Ravenclaw Seeker, and Lassiter actually felt a stab of guilt for even _thinking_ about bringing it up with him. It would be unkind, and almost cruel.

So, instead of saying what he wanted to say, what came out instead was, “Yeah, me, too. Just thought that you might know more about it.”

Spencer shook his head and took another bite of his dinner roll.

“Nope. But I’d _kill_ to be recruited by him. They say that once you’re picked by Bloomquist, you have a _guaranteed_ career.”

The Slytherin didn’t know how to respond to that, so he stayed silent, his mind still silently going over his options. Yes, this was an amazing opportunity, but, more than anything, he wanted to be an Auror. He glanced at Spencer and wondered how mad he would be if he told him that Bloomquist wanted him. He’d hate him, for sure. And, at that thought, he felt an odd churning in his stomach. As much as he and Spencer seemed to compete and obviously take pleasure at the other’s misfortune…he didn’t want him to hate him.

In fact, surprisingly enough, he seemed to want the opposite. He wouldn’t be entirely displeased if Spencer started being nicer to him, and they were…well, not really friends, but someone that the other could trust enough to talk to every once in a while.

He brushed his thoughts to the side and they finished eating their dinners in silence, after which Lassiter stood and headed for the Slytherin common room.

Spencer didn’t try to follow him this time, thank god.

The instant he was in his common room he tossed his bag in the direction of the boys dorms and then threw himself onto the couch facing the windows that looked directly into the lake itself. Seconds after he sat down, Elise King collapsed on the couch next to him, saying, “Thanks for covering for me, Carlton. It’s been a brutal couple of days.” The last part was sniffled out as she blew her nose, and he nodded and replied, “Sure thing.”

Elise then added, “By the way, awesome job beating Spencer! I don’t think that I could have done it. He’s too good on a broom, you know?”

Carlton nodded a second time.

“Yeah…I know.”

He glanced over at her, wondering if he should talk to her about Bloomquist. She was a tiny thing with short, messy brown hair. Elise was a meager five-foot-three, and when she wore gray sweatpants and one of her father’s Oxford Alumni shirts, she looked even smaller than she was. The sleeves of the shirt were shoved up over her wrists and even with the drawstring on her pants pulled tight, the pants swept past her feet, which were currently tucked up beside him as she made herself comfortable on the black leather couch.

After a moment of both of them looking out the glass windows and staring at the giant squid as it swam past, he asked her, “What do you know about Gibbs Bloomquist?”

“The headhunter for QUILL?”

“Yeah.”

She smiled and said in a slightly stuffy voice, “Only that he’s an ex-Slytherin who is the best in the business at finding people careers in Quidditch. I mean, sure, there are a few rumours that he’s taking a few extra galleons under the table, but no one really cares because it’s Quidditch.” She blew her nose a second time, and added, “He used to play himself, way back when, but Slytherin never won the Quidditch cup when he played, so I think he resents it…” She paused and then gave Carlton a look, an eyebrow arching. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason. Just, you know…curious.”

She snorted and then coughed, choking for a moment, before she finally cleared her throat enough to say, “He wants to recruit you as an official Reservist Player, doesn’t he?”

He nodded.

Elise let out a sigh and put her head on his shoulder, and he didn’t protest. She was like a little sister to him, and after a moment, she said, “Well, if you accept, they’ll pay for your Auror training, for sure…but I doubt you’ll ever _be_ an actual Auror. They’ll end up shuffling you between so many teams you’ll never get a chance to go after your real dreams…”

He nodded again, not sure of how to respond.

After a while, she stilled and Carlton could tell that she had fallen asleep.

He thought about changing his position, but she seemed comfortable, so he let her stay, and instead used his wand to summon his bag to his lap. Since he was going to be stuck there until she woke up, he might as well get some work done.

 

 


End file.
